The night had grown deep. A gentle breeze swept through the quiet village of Kuroyama, carrying with it the scent of dew and fresh earth.
mbers of the Kakushi—those silent workers behind the scenes of the Demon Slayer Corps—had already arrived. As always, they swiftly began their post-battle operations.
But this ti… their workload was unlike anything they had ever faced.
Sure, they were amazed by the sheer power of the newly appointed Thunder Hashira, Tachibana Kyūjō. But admiration didn't change the fact that the amount of destruction he left behind… was equivalent to ten full-scale missions.
The squad leader stood frozen in place, eyes wide as he stared at the smoldering ruins that had once been a mansion.
"…This is going to be a long night."
Unfortunately for him, Tachibana Kyūjō was fast asleep by then—completely unaware of the sighs and struggles left in his wake.
— — —
The next morning, Kyūjō was already up and bursting with energy.
With his trusty Kasugai Crow, Shōki, flying ahead, he cheerfully stepped back onto the path of demon slaying.
But this ti, he ca prepared.
Strapped to his back was a heavy backpack stuffed with dried at—and sitting on top of it, tied down securely, was a large iron cooking pot.
Why not just bring onigiri like everyone else?
"Seriously? Who in their right mind would settle for cold rice when you can have hot grilled at?"
"Do I look poor to you?"
"Or maybe you think I, Tachibana Kyūjō, don't know how to shop properly!?"
Along with ingredients, he even carried a full set of spices and seasonings.
From now on, he would be... a self-sufficient, wandering swordsman who needed no logistical support!
Of course, every strength ca with a price.
Just when the world was starting to recognize his striking good looks—those very looks were now hidden behind the comically large pot hanging from his back.
And so, a new legend was born:
A wandering swordsman who carried a giant pot on his back, twin blades at his hips, traveling the country, delivering justice, and cutting down demons like monsters from folklore.
His na: Tachibana Kyūjō.
The twin swords he carried had two nas:
One for punishing the wicked.
One for comforting the dead.
He called them "Judgnt" and "Requiem."
(Kyūjō: "I won't allow either the human world or the spirit realm to be defiled.")
— — —
Of course, Kyūjō himself thought all of this was a bit overblown.
But really—who could bla them?
That thunderous movent he made wherever he went couldn't be hidden. Every ti he stepped into a new town, the skies would thunder with his arrival. And when he did…
Demons who feasted on human flesh, and corrupt humans who preyed on the weak…
None of them stood a chance against the Blade-Wielder with the Pot.
Even mbers of the Twelve Kizuki fell before him.
Stories of the mysterious thunder swordsman spread quickly—among humans and demons alike.
Inspired by him, many young n and won—who used to live in fear under the shadow of demons—finally stood tall.
Motivated by the legend of "the pot-carrying swordsman," they enrolled in the Demon Slayer Corps.
And in just one year, thanks to this one man, the fighting spirit of the Corps was reignited across Japan.
And for that, the Corps gave him a new title:
"The Strongest Thunder Swordsman in History."
As for the ordinary folks who had no idea demons existed… all they saw was a wandering warrior who saved lives wherever he went.
They called him:
"The Thunder Swordsman from the Sky."
— — —
Spring faded into autumn.
A full year had passed since Kyūjō first joined the Corps.
But ti never wastes itself on those who give their all.
Now sixteen, Kyūjō—officially the Operations Manager of the Demon Slayer Corps—had completed his mission to patrol the entire country and returned to headquarters.
He submitted his year-end report…
And it stunned everyone.
Kagaya Ubuyashiki, the leader of the Corps, had already lost count of how many tis he was surprised by scattered reports of Kyūjō's activities over the year.
But when he saw the full summary—
He simply let out a long sigh.
"Haaah…"
"If only he didn't get so involved in every single local incident…"
Over the past year, the Kakushi division had worked overti cleaning up after Kyūjō—ensuring his na wouldn't appear on every wanted poster in the land.
— — —
Na: Tachibana Kyūjō
Title: Operations Manager, Demon Slayer Corps
Age: 16
Track Record: Joined a year ago after slaying Lower Moon Two – Rokuro. In a single year, defeated 86 demons, including four mbers of the Twelve Kizuki:
– Lower Moon One: Ubu
– Lower Moon Three: Yuki Onna
– Lower Moon Four: Korogi
– Lower Moon Six: Kyōgai
— — —
Not once was he injured. He was either in battle or en route to the next one.
On average—he eliminated one demon every four days.
But don't underestimate that number.
Demons don't move in packs. They live in isolated territories.
Most of Kyūjō's ti was spent traveling—or getting sidetracked.
His actual battles were short. Very short. Most demons didn't even fight—they just ran when they saw the swordsman with the pot.
Unfortunately for them, there was no escape from his thunder-sense.
With his incredible speed and radar-like intuition, Kyūjō hunted them all down.
And raw power remained the foundation of everything.
Other managers in the operations division could only stare blankly at his report.
Six of them combined couldn't keep up with one Kyūjō.
Their monthly salaries suddenly felt very heavy.
The only Hashira who didn't flinch was the Stone Hashira, Hijima Gyōi.
Murmuring, "Namu Amida Butsu," he calmly turned his prayer beads.
No one knew...
But deep inside, Gyōi quietly prayed:
'I knew from the beginning… I'm not the talented type.'
'I accepted my limits a long ti ago.'
(Author's Note: Haha, just kidding! Every Hashira deserves respect. They risk their lives and limbs every day to protect humanity.)
— — —
anwhile, sowhere inside the Forbidden Dinsional Space—The Infinity Castle—
The gentle sound of a biwa echoed, string notes rippling through warped space and ti.
Tiiing...
At last, our main antagonist appeared.
Kibutsuji Muzan.
The Demon King. The progenitor of all demons.
Today, he wore a dark crimson floral kimono. His long black hair was tied neatly behind his head. His face... flawless.
But for so reason, his expression was absolutely foul.
Veins bulged across his face. Blood simred just beneath his pale skin.
The entire chamber trembled under the weight of his barely restrained fury.
With a voice sharp enough to slice the air, he gave his command:
"Naki. Summon all the Upper Moons to ."
"I want to see them."
— — —
Tiiing...
The biwa sounded again. The Infinity Castle responded.
The structure shifted. Floors beca ceilings. Walls twisted into staircases.
Amidst the disorienting rumble, seven demons appeared across the castle's warped halls—each exuding a distinct and terrifying presence.
Among them, a red-haired man with muscular build and blue markings across his body slowly opened his eyes.
In both irises glead three dreaded kanji:
Upper Moon – Three.
His na: Akaza—the Upper Rank Three of the Twelve Kizuki.
"…The Infinity Castle?"
"That ans…"
"One of us has been killed."
His body trembled—not from fear, but from twisted anticipation.
'Was it that swordsman with the pot on his back…?'
'I hope I get to fight him.'
'And I really, really hope…'
'…the one who got killed this ti…'
'…was you, Dōma.'
With burning excitent, Akaza launched himself toward the castle's center.
The Infinity Castle itself—twisting reality under the control of a demon woman's Blood Demon Art—shuddered and shifted to prepare for what it was made for:
> An ergency eting <
— — —
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